


what's past is prologue

by ohvictor



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: A3! Play Characters, Attempted heist, Found Family, Friendship, Gen, failed heist (spoilers?), sky/paul (developing)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28184670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/pseuds/ohvictor
Summary: “I need to go back to the Navy,” Paul says, about twenty minutes after the Navy abandons Captain Sky and his pirates on an island without even a treasure chest to glory in.“Wow, you lasted real long,” Francois deadpans.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18
Collections: Encore! Zine





	what's past is prologue

**Author's Note:**

> see [disclaimer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohvictor/profile).
> 
> this is the piece i wrote for the [a3 writers zine](https://twitter.com/EncoreZine)! the stories in this zine expand upon the stories told within the first 12 troupe plays in a3. this story is a sequel to summer troupe's 3rd play, captain sky's pirates. as the rest of my a3 works probably suggest, summer troupe isn't one i think about often, so it was really cool to dig into some of the themes and styles that summer is known for. i was also heavily influenced by the stage production of this play!

“I need to go back to the Navy,” Paul says, about twenty minutes after the Navy abandons Captain Sky and his pirates on an island without even a treasure chest to glory in. 

“Wow, you lasted real long,” Francois deadpans. 

All Sky says is “Paul,” with an exaggerated sad face. The corners of his mouth are pulled so low his face looks in danger of sticking that way. Johnny pokes at it, unable to resist his impulses.

Paul shakes his head. “I’m not quitting the pirate crew. There’s just some personal stuff I need to get from my room back at the base. Plus, I can grab some Navy intel on my way out. That might be useful for pirates who are down on their luck, right?”

Sky’s pirates consider this. 

“Sky _does_ owe me money,” Johnny is quick to point out. “And we don’t even have a proper ship. Just a little dinghy that barely fits all of us, ‘specially now that we have Paul.”

“It’s hardly worthy of being called a dinghy,” Henry adds. “It leaks at the bottom.”

“Everyone loves to dunk on old Sky’s boat,” Sky grouses. “With Paul’s secret Navy treasure, I’ll buy every last one of you your own boat! How do you like that?”

“Paul didn’t even say there _is_ secret Navy treasure.”

“But he didn’t say there _isn’t_.”

Four indignant faces turn to Paul, who holds up his hands. “I do remember hearing tell about a lot of pirate legends. That’s how I heard about Henry. And we got briefed on Francois. So, yeah, I can probably get us something.”

“Yay!” Sky grabs a handful of sand from the beach and throws it up into the air, for want of confetti. The sea breeze wafts a few of the airborne grains into Sky’s open mouth, making him yelp and shut it.

“If we’re aiming to head back to port, we’d better get a move on,” Henry says. “The skies look clear now, but they won’t be for long.”

“I want a good meal,” Francois mumbles. “A whole roast bird... Potatoes...”

“Potatoes,” Johnny agrees droolingly.

“When we get that Navy treasure,” Sky starts, and then shakes his head. “Well, first things first! Let’s get this boat on the water!”

With the collective efforts of the now five Sky’s pirates, the little dinghy is dragged back onto the water. It doesn’t sink under the weight of its five rowdy passengers, but the water pooling at the bottom grows a little more pronounced. Johnny and Sky look down at it, and then look away. Sky directs each pirate to man a different part of the boat, and then stands himself at the head and does a cool pose as the sail starts to fill. With better luck than the crew has had in ages, they manage to catch a good wind all the way back to land, and Johnny only has to help row a _little_ bit.

Conversation on the boat is slow as they trek back to port, with Francois nodding off under the afternoon sun, Sky and Johnny bickering over the splash of waves against the sides of the boat, and Paul lost in thought, his jaw set. Henry keeps his watchful eyes on all of them, the wind trailing its fingers through his hair as the boat crests wave after wave. 

As the port appears on the horizon, the pirates perk up—particularly Francois, who broaches the topic of how they’re going to sneak Paul into the Navy base when he pretty obviously defected. “There’s probably a death penalty for that, you know,” she warns, her voice low enough to sound ominous but not enough to disguise her admiration. 

“There’s not a death penalty,” Paul says, though he doesn’t look very certain. 

“Well, if we’re sneaking around, Sky and Johnny are automatically out,” Henry says, matter-of-fact. “They’re not stealthy at _all_.”

Sky and Johnny immediately turn to Henry with twin sulky expressions. “Yeah, well,” Sky whines, “Henry and Francois are wanted by the Navy, so you’re at a way bigger risk if you get caught!”

“We can just wear disguises, obviously,” Francois counters.

Henry snorts. “Yeah, that worked out so well for you.”

“Didn’t it?” Francois says primly. “I’m alive now, aren’t I?”

“All of us will go,” Sky says, in the tone that says he thinks he’s having the final say, a difficult thing with crewmates like his. “It’s all or nothing! One for all, and all for one!”

“I don’t think that’s really the spirit of that saying...”

“If you want to get Paul caught and tied up in some Navy brig, be my guest.”

“Paul’s not gonna get caught!”

As the rest of the crew bickers, Henry’s eyes drift to Paul, whose jaw hasn’t quite relaxed from the wary clench he’s worn since he joined Sky’s crew. He only gets to look a few moments, though, before Paul turns, catches Henry’s eyes, and gives him a reassuring smile that somewhat misses the mark. 

In the next several hours, Paul doesn’t seem to relax. Not when Sky docks their leaky little dinghy in a deserted corner of the vast shipyard, nor when Francois disappears for half an hour and returns with a small feast’s worth of stolen food, refusing to divulge the source even when Sky threatens to demote her to lower than Johnny’s position (to Johnny’s delight). Nor when they’re settling into one of the abandoned warehouses to sleep, Sky rooting through a shed behind the rotting building and coming back with some equally rotting blankets, which don’t smell _that_ awful, considering. As the rest of Sky’s pirates settle grumpily down for bed, Henry lays down but doesn’t close his eyes. 

An hour later, he sees movement from Paul’s pile of blankets, and he lifts his head a fraction of an inch to see Paul lifting his blankets off himself as quietly as he can. 

Henry lets Paul get just outside the door of the warehouse, thinking he’s gotten away with whatever he’s doing, and then goes after him. He doesn’t have to look far—when he steps out of the warehouse, Paul is just a few paces ahead, silhouetted against the full moon and the dark shipyard, looking lost. 

“Going somewhere?” Henry asks.

Paul startles, spinning around to face the sound of Henry’s voice. When he sees Henry’s relaxed posture, the tension in his body seems to fade a little. “I...”

“If you’re thinking of disappearing in the middle of the night, you better not come back, ’specially not with any friends,” Henry says, his tone pleasant. “Or if it’s a fight you want, I’ll holler for the rest of the crew to wake up before you can lay a hand on me.”

“I don’t want either of those,” Paul says quickly, holding up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I’m just...not sure _what_ I want.”

“Ah.” Well, if there’s no knives or betrayal involved, Henry’s a little out of his element. He considers Paul, and then gestures at the ground, where a couple of pieces of lumber linger in front of the warehouse. “Wanna sit and have a talk?”

“Can’t hurt,” Paul says, shrugging one shoulder.

So they sit down. Henry crosses his legs, trying to appear like he knows what the hell he’s doing. It occurs to him that he doesn’t even know how old Paul is. Henry knows he himself doesn’t look his age—he’s been pegged at both older and younger than he truly is, a number that not many people know at this point. Paul looks similarly ambiguous, the stubble on his jaw and the nervous crack of his voice painting contradictory portraits of his history. 

“I was thinking I’d sneak into the Navy base myself,” Paul confesses. “I don’t want any of your crew to get hurt because of me.”

“ _Our_ crew,” Henry corrects. It seems like the right thing to say, and Paul smiles a little, so it probably was.

“I guess. I think you were right that everyone else would be bad at sneaking in, or they’re at a bigger risk if they get caught. I’m the one who knows the Navy base, and I’m the one who’s got business there. So I thought... I should be the one to go.”

“That’s a real noble way of thinking. But I can tell you that Sky and the others don’t see it that way. You’re part of the crew now, and they want to have your back. Me, too,” Henry adds, an afterthought. “I joined Sky’s crew on a whim, but I stuck around for a reason, you know.”

Paul nods. “I was definitely surprised when I realized who you were. The Bloody Henry I heard about didn’t seem the type to stick around a ragtag crew like Sky’s.”

“The person I was when I built the Bloody Henry reputation probably would’ve sunk Sky’s ship the second I found out he didn’t have any gold to his name,” Henry admits. “But I’ve changed... Maybe Sky changed me. I really admire that guy. His unflinching optimism and resolve to never abandon his crewmates is a world away from all the backstabbing and bloodshed I’ve seen—and participated in, of course.”

“Sounds like you got pretty disillusioned with the pirate world.”

“Somethin’ like that,” Henry nods.

The tense set of Paul’s jaw is loosening, fading as he talks. “I think I feel something similar. I became a Navy soldier by childhood necessity. And I was already growing disillusioned with the Navy by the time I met your crew. The Colonel being willin’ to throw my life away, just because it was more convenient for him...” A shadow passes over Paul’s face, making him look gaunt under the moonlight. “And Sky bein’ willing to take a bullet for me really shook me. My allegiance is to him now—it’s gotta be. But it’s a completely different life from what I was living up til yesterday,” Paul confesses, his hands spread helplessly, “and I’m not sure how to live it.” 

“That’s something I can’t relate to,” Henry says, honestly, and Paul laughs. “I’ve been a pirate my whole life, practically. Like you—it was the only path for me, as a kid. But if something happened and I suddenly had to join the Navy... I mean, hypothetically, ’cause they’d never take Bloody Henry alive. But I’d have no idea what to do.”

Paul nods. Suddenly he looks very small, with his shoulders hunched and his face downturned. “Yeah.”

“Well, tomorrow you’re gonna visit your old life one last time.” Henry reaches over and pats Paul’s leg, possessed by some kind of jovial energy he didn’t know he had. It’s been a while since he had a heart-to-heart like this with someone. “Then we can burn the whole thing to the ground.” Paul looks up, his face sounding an alarm, so Henry backpedals. “Not literally.”

“Okay, good,” Paul says, and Henry thinks, _this one is going to be a lot of work._

They return to their moldy blankets after that, Paul looking determined, somehow reassured by Henry’s clumsy emotional connection skills, and Henry feeling oddly like he needs a drink. And morning comes, the sun rising cheerily over the shipyard, and Sky and Johnny run off and return with enough gambled coins to buy a small breakfast. 

After they’ve eaten enough to fill their stomachs, and bickered over Navy invasion plans until the sun is high in the sky, they come to something resembling a consensus, though whether it’s a consensus on a plan or a consensus to stop arguing and get moving, Henry’s not sure. His late night and mediocre breakfast leave him sleepy, words filtering through his brain at a slower speed than normal, but he perks up as Sky’s pirates leave their warehouse hideout and get moving. 

At the very least, what seems to be agreed upon is that Paul will pretend to capture Sky and Johnny, the two loudest members of the crew, and say he’s bringing them to his quarters to identify something on a map he has there. Henry and Francois will follow at a distance, ready to deploy their combat skills if things go bad. From there, it’s a matter of Paul getting his things and then all of them running like hell until they’re safe. And then it’s over, and Paul’s life with the Navy is behind him.

Paul looks doubtful; Henry can’t blame him. As they’re packing up whatever supplies they have, Henry leans in and reminds Paul, “Even if things go south, we won’t leave you behind.” Paul meets his eyes, and gives him a firm nod. 

The sun beats down on their necks as they make their way to the Navy base. Henry’s never been to this part of town before, and he’s been to this port more times than he can count. This is where it’s not safe to look like someone called ‘Bloody Henry’—where the streets are clean, the restaurants crowded and bright, the passersby clad in expensive attire and shiny jewelry. Henry’s fingers itch just looking at it. This isn’t where he’s supposed to be—it never was.

“The base is up there,” Paul says at last, pointing down a cobbled street that twists out of sight into a mass of concrete buildings. His trepidation is clear in his voice, halting and careful. Oblivious, Sky and Johnny immediately start twisting their arms up in the ties they brought, Johnny complaining about how rough the binds are. Francois’s jaw twitches, and she grabs the ropes and ties them tighter, ignoring her captain and crewmate’s protests. 

Paul reaches for the ends of the ties, his jaw clenched in new determination. Francois looks him up and down, and then hands him the ties, nodding. “Be careful in there.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Ropes in hand, Paul begins his final walk to the Navy base. Sky and Johnny trot behind him, making enough noise that even once they're out of sight around the bend in the road, Henry and Francois can still hear them. Francois turns to Henry, her brow furrowed. 

“This isn’t going to go well,” she says, “you know that, right.”

Henry sighs, double-checking the placement of the dagger strapped to his leg. He’s ready for when this goes south, which it will. Always ready. “Of course not. But it’s what Paul needs to move on.”

“Name and badge.”

“Paul Stern.” Paul flashes the badge he’d kept in his pocket since defecting on the colonel’s ship. He’s praying that it’s been too little time for the guards to know he turned traitor and joined a pirate crew. That’s the first gamble, in a series of increasingly risky ideas strapped together in what could only loosely be called a plan. 

Luckily, Paul kept his head down in his Navy days. No one really recognized his face, save a couple pals from training and his roommate. Maybe that’s why the colonel found him so disposable... Or maybe that would’ve happened to anyone. 

“You’re clear to go through,” the gate guard says, and then lifts his chin at Sky and Johnny. “Who’re these?”

“They’re my captives,” Paul says, puffing his chest up. If he deepens his voice, maybe it’ll add to his credibility. Behind him, Sky and Johnny are nodding. 

The guard squints in Sky and Johnny’s faces. Sky manages to stay stony-faced, but Johnny’s nose wrinkles, his knees nearly buckling as he tries to get away. The guard turns back to Paul. “What’re they captive for?”

“Pirates.” 

“Well, no reason for ‘em to go inside base. Leave ‘em here with me, and I’ll bring ‘em down to the jail on my break.”

Johnny pales. “I don’t wanna go to jail!”

“You’re not going to jail,” Sky assures him. 

Paul wants to melt into the ground. He summons up his most authoritative smile. “I need ‘em to verify something on a map I have in my quarters. Figured it’d be easiest just to bring them there with me, and then I’ll drop them off at the jail after.”

“Can’t do that, I’m afraid.” 

“Paul,” Sky whines, and Paul panics. 

“Why don’t I leave ‘em here with you, and I’ll go in and get my map?”

“Don’t leave us with this guy,” Johnny pleads, “his breath smells sooo bad, and I wanna see your room, Paul—” 

“Jo— You ingrates should be glad I’m not taking you to the jail straight away,” Paul blusters.

“I wanna see your room too,” Sky chimes in. 

“What the hell did you tell these guys is in your room?” The guard squints at Paul this time. “Paul Stern, wasn’t it? Who’s your CO?”

“Uhhhh,” Paul says, his brain completely blank. He fumbles in his back pocket for anything, and then remembers he doesn’t even have a proper weapon on him. Fuck it. “ _Henry_!”

Three minutes later, all four guards posted at the Navy base front gate are incapacitated, Johnny and Sky are free from their ropes, and Henry and Francois are looking very exasperated. Paul doesn’t really know how he expected things to go differently, but at least there’s less blood on the ground than he thought. 

“Well, we’ve lost our stealth cover, so you better hustle,” Francois tells Paul, making a motion with her hand for him to get a move on. “If you want company, it better be one of your captives.”

“I’ll go,” Sky says immediately. His hair has been blown about in the brief scuffle, and it’s doing something weird to Paul’s chest when he looks at it. “Johnny, you stay behind. You can’t run very fast.” Johnny starts pouting immediately, and Sky adds, “I don’t want you to get hurt!”

“Aw, Cap’n...”

“Then go,” Henry says, and pushes Paul towards the entrance. 

This is the base where Paul spent the last three years. In the formative years of his life, since he left home, the nowhere town he came from and the nobody boy he was, there’s only been the academy and this. He knows the path through the base like the back of his hand, so leading Sky through the least crowded areas is easy, second nature. With time, Paul wonders if he’ll forget. If the Navy will relocate its headquarters to another port, leaving this building empty, perfect for squatters. In this new life, maybe he’ll return here to find the polished walls wrought with ivy and grime, the pennants hanging from them removed or left to rot. 

Sky grabs his hand, his fingers warm and calloused in Paul’s own, which feel embarrassingly clammy. He has to remind himself to focus on the task at hand. _Don’t think about coming back here one day—or you won’t live long enough to see that come to pass_.

“You okay?” Sky asks, his eyes fixed on Paul’s face. Despite the urgency of their mission, the world seems to slow when Paul looks back at him. He nods, and is about to tug Sky forward when a sudden noise around the corner startles him. Without thinking, he yanks on Sky’s hand and they stumble towards a random door that Paul’s pretty sure doesn’t lead to anything. Throwing it open reveals a plain broom closet, with just enough room for two people—perfect, convenient. Paul shuts the door behind them, plunging them into dusty darkness.

“Don’t sneeze,” he hisses. He’s barely able to make out Sky in the sudden darkness, so he reaches out for Sky’s hands, groping at the black space in front of him. His hands hit the solid warmth of Sky’s side at the same time that Sky huffs out a laugh, close enough that his breath fans out on Paul’s cheek when he exhales. 

“ _You_ don’t sneeze either,” Sky breathes, and Paul is suddenly aware that Sky’s face is just inches from his, the words practically breathed onto his skin. Sky takes Paul’s hands and threads their fingers together, maybe just for security, but it sends Paul’s heart pounding faster and faster. He can’t think with the heat of Sky’s breath on his face, and it’s with an effort that he remembers to listen for footsteps outside. It’s quiet; whoever was approaching seems to have passed by. 

“We need to hurry,” Paul whispers, the urgency of their mission pressing on him, and he pushes the door open, casting light onto Sky’s face in time to see him nod firmly. Their hands are still twined together, and Paul tugs, leading Sky down yet another hallway, up a flight of stairs, through increasingly narrow, dim corridors. The Navy dorms aren’t glamorous, but that never bothered Paul. It’s all better than where he came from, after all—as they hurry through hallway after hallway, though, Sky’s mouth hangs open in awe. Paul wonders what Sky’s background is like—and is surprised to find he earnestly wants to know. 

They’re lucky—they don’t pass any more guards before they reach Paul’s room. Blissfully, his roommate is out, probably doing drills. The guy has already started to encroach on Paul’s space in the day he’s been gone, and the sight of his stuff piling onto Paul’s bed leaves a bitter taste in Paul’s mouth. Again and again, his decision to defect is affirmed—especially as Sky stares in wonder around the room, questions clearly on the tip of his tongue, and Paul wants, again, to talk to him, to find out what he’s thinking.

Instead, he turns toward the battered chest of drawers that came with the room, grabs a bag from his closet, and starts loading it up with the barest essentials. 

He doesn’t have much. No keepsakes from the life he had before the Navy, no family heirlooms, no sentimental objects. There’s books he’d love to read again, clothes that he felt good in, but there’s so little time to appraise each object, each symbol of the life he’s leaving behind. And he’s not sure he wants to, either. The bag fills slowly but steadily with clothes he thinks Sky’s crew would fit into, what few snacks he has in his room, some books that a crew of pirates could use to navigate (though they seem to have stayed alive long enough without them, and he can imagine the look on Henry’s face at the prospect that he could learn something valuable from Navy books). There’s a few pieces of Navy intel he has on paper in here, and he makes sure to grab them—there’s no telling what might come in handy, and he _thinks_ there’s a map in here that even Henry might not have scouted before. If Paul can be useful to them... But that’s not the point anymore, is it? They won’t abandon him, no matter what. 

He steps back from the drawers, scanning the rest of his room for anything else he could grab. Thoughts fly through his head as his gaze crosses objects and furniture that no longer hold meaning for him. Is this really all that’s left of his life? 

“Paul,” Sky says quietly, and Paul turns to find Sky’s eyes fixed on him. It’s the same steady, clear gaze Sky had worn when he invited Paul to join his crew. Sky may be easily distracted, forgetful, money-motivated, silly, a mess of a pirate—but something about this look on his face makes Paul want to stand behind him, unquestioning. The impulse his commanding officers in the Navy had tried to beat into him comes so easily when he looks at this man. 

“Let’s go,” Paul says.

Night has fallen by the time Sky’s pirates make it back to the warehouse. Miraculously, they’re all in one piece—thanks to Henry and Francois, obviously, no thanks to Johnny, who immediately started yelling at the sight of Sky and Paul emerging from the Navy building. 

Once they’re safe, Paul reveals what he managed to smuggle out of his room. It’s a lot of clothes, none of which will fit Henry but might fit Sky or Johnny, and a bit of food that Sky immediately latches onto as part of dinner, and some books, which Henry seriously doubts have anything useful in them. The Navy learns everything way later than pirates do, after all. 

After he’s shown everything else in the bag, Paul takes out a few pieces of paper that have maps on them, and presents them to the crew. “I think these might be useful. I only heard about them recently, so the treasure they show might still be out there.” He’s watching Henry out of the corner of his eye—a good instinct, because Henry knows nearly all the pirate treasure deposits in this hemisphere, and Francois nearly as many as him.

Henry’s willing to indulge Paul, so he reaches for the papers. Two of the maps he’s pretty sure lead to treasure that’s been claimed and moved—at least, that’s the hearsay from a pub he visited just before Sky sunk his last ship. The third map, though, is promising—it’s to an island Henry knows is hard to get to, accessible only during a narrow window in low tide, surrounded by cliffs. It’s a tight spot to reach, and what’s more, there’s a lot of land and very little time to explore. This map, if it’s right, could save them a lot of time scouting the area—they could walk right to the treasure spot, dig it up, and be gone before the tide comes back in.

“This one might be worth pursuing,” Henry says idly, handing the map back to Paul with feigned nonchalance. Paul’s sharp, though; he sees right through Henry’s facade, and nods. 

“Let’s make that our next goal, then. I hear Captain Sky has debts to pay back.”

“He does,” Johnny affirms loudly.

“You'll get your gold,” Sky says. He slings an arm around Paul’s shoulders, and Paul’s cheeks tint pink. Well, that’s something Henry didn’t expect—but maybe he should have. “Anyway, we’ll need a bigger boat if we’re going to crack that nut, huh?”

“We need _a_ boat,” Francois mutters. “Can’t cross the ocean on a dinghy.”

“That’s coward talk.”

“If you don’t get a better boat, I’m quittin’ the crew!”

“I don’t exactly see you contributing any funds!”

Henry, laughing along with Sky and Francois’ banter, catches Paul’s eye across the circle. The unguarded warm smile on Paul’s face is a rare sight—and it’s exactly how Henry feels on the inside. He figures it won’t hurt to smile back, and Paul nods, his smile growing. 

This is where they both belong, after all. 


End file.
